Page 37 of Hers for the Weekend

Her phone pinged.

Caitlin: OMG the inn looks so cute! And is that Chef Levi Matthews? Has he cooked you anything yet?

Holly was about to text her back when another text came through.

Tara: I’m going to tell Levi you called his mom a MILF.

Tara: Also we’ll be back in half an hour, according to Cole, so it may be 3 hours. Impossible to tell.

Tara: It’s adorable that you think you’ll be the one getting me naked.

Holly couldn’t decide if she was more turned on by Tara’s cocky top energy or her commitment to punctuation. It was like, as soon as Tara had agreed to hook up, she’d taken control of the seduction. Holly was very happy to let her.

“I don’t understand why Collin is making the sandwiches,” Levi said to Hannah, walking into the kitchen where Holly was helping Mrs. Matthews get cinnamon roll dough ready to rest for the next morning. It had been wonderful, baking and gossiping, sharing recipes and stories. “She’s my best friend, and I’m, like, I don’t know if you know this, kind of good at cooking.”

Like Cole, Miriam had multiple best friends, and Levi was, apparently, trying to assert his space as one of them.

His wife patted him on the arm. “You are good at cooking, babe. You’re famous in Australia for being good at cooking.”

“Hey! I’m famous here, too!” he objected, pouting a little.

“Wait, didn’t he lose Australia’s Next Star Chef?” Holly asked.

“But,” Hannah continued while her husband feigned being wounded by this, “Collin is good at sandwiches, and your best friend wants Collin’s sandwiches for her birthday.”

Levi huffed, and his mother handed him a cup of coffee. He poured enough sugar in it that Holly, watching him, began twitching. She could imagine the sugar sludge at the bottom of the cup, left there for whoever was stuck with the dishes.

Although, possibly his mother would make him do his own dishes, in which case, he could drink his gross coffee syrup in peace. He must go through more sugar in a month than her family had been able to afford in a year when she was growing up.

“Who’s Collin again?” she asked, trying to distract herself from comparing her life to the ones of everyone around her. “Mrs. Matthews said something about a diner?”

Hannah reached past Levi to grab her own cup of coffee and settled on a kitchen stool. “He owns the diner in Advent, which, other than Ernie’s bar, is the only place to get food. He’s married to the woman who owns the boutique. Levi actually is friends with him and respects his cooking. He’s just grouchy because he wants to make Miri’s birthday dinner.”

Mrs. Matthews added, “Miri wants Levi to participate in her birthday dinner, and me as well, which is why she’s outsourced the cooking.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet of her,” Holly said. “Do you need an extra pair of hands to wait tables? I’m a pro.”

Hannah gasped. “You’re our guest! You’re here for us to get all the dirt on your relationship with Tara. And to get to know you.”

Levi pouted more, but Holly could see a gleam in his eye that told her he was doing it to get a rise out of his mother. “I get put to work all the time.”

Mrs. Matthews flicked him. “You work here.”

He sighed, then turned to Holly. “Holly, you obviously know your way around a yeast dough. What other kitchen skills do you have?” He changed the subject with the flash of a smile and a twinkle in his kohl-lined gray eyes.

She’d underestimated how powerful his charisma would be in person, even when he was sitting in his mother’s kitchen whining. She was understanding more and more how he became a global TV sensation so quickly.

“Well,” she told him, “I’ve worked in a lot of diners, so if you need a perfectly fried egg, I’m your girl, and I can hashbrown a potato like magic. But mainly I bake.”

“Finally,” Mrs. Matthews said, “we have a baker in the family! You should see her cinnamon roll skills.”

Holly was taken aback by already being assumed part of the family. She hadn’t even known Tara was part of the family.

“You can’t bake?” she asked Hannah. “Aren’t you a Rosenstein?”

Levi laughed. “She’s the only Rosenstein who can’t bake, but I’m a classically trained chef and I also can’t bake, so we’re a matched pair.”

They clinked their coffee mugs together.

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